


How to Bring Someone Back from the Dead

by Goron_King_Darunia



Category: Tales of Symphonia: Dawn of the New World
Genre: Aqua and Rilena are in this too, But neither of them are treated seriously, M/M, Multi, Richter Abend & Aster Laker - Freeform, Richter and Aster kiss but if you yell "No Homo" loud enough, Since nothing explicit happens this fic could also be categorized as, Some slight suggestion at Aqua/Richter and Rilena/Aster in case that's anyone's NOTP, but the intent is for it to be read as romantic hence why it's not a main tag, then it could definitely be a broship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24301894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goron_King_Darunia/pseuds/Goron_King_Darunia
Summary: Richter finds a mysterious note in a book and decides to follow its instructions on a quest to bring Aster back from the grave.
Relationships: Richter Abend/Aster Laker
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	How to Bring Someone Back from the Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](https://hgk477.tumblr.com/post/187209524924/how-to-bring-someone-back-from-the-dead) post by MeetmeforDnD posted through HGK477 on both [Tumblr](https://hgk477.tumblr.com/post/187209524924/how-to-bring-someone-back-from-the-dead) and [Reddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/HGK477/comments/cu242n/how_to_bring_someone_back_from_the_dead/)
> 
> Inspired by the song “Alice” by FurukawaP, acane_madder, and Tanaka Itaru, Arranged by BuzzPanda/Bazupanda and Sukebe with translated lyrics from Katerinu2/MoonNue, madokaueno, and reggydayo. Minor lyric edits by myself.

Richter meticulously pens down the instructions. He’s desperate. He doesn’t know why they’re scribbled in the margins of this book about grief. But he doesn’t care. He has to try. Even if the instructions are just a cruel prank, it won’t hurt to try. Or at least, it won’t hurt anyone else but him, and he could care less about himself right now.  


1\. Make sure that it wasn’t their time to die. If it was, do not try to bring them back. 


Richter couldn’t be more sure. Even if he were to believe that the universe works in mysterious ways, how could Aster be meant to die? How could it be written in the stars that he was meant to be murdered? Surely he was meant to grow old, or die fighting illness, or at the very least die by his own mistakes in the lab. He hated all of it, but it felt _right._ They felt like the right ways for him. If Aster was meant to die now, why did Richter feel so deeply, terribly sick over it? If the gods existed, they had other ways of taking Aster from him than something as crude as murder. 

2\. If you’re sure they weren’t meant to die, start preparing for your journey. It will be a long one. 


Richter tells Rilena he’ll be off for a while. He doesn’t say why. He doesn’t want to get her hopes up. He promises to come back when he can. _If_ he can. He doesn’t want to worry her. He purchases a backpack. He’s never needed more than his satchel before, but if the instructions are to be believed, he’ll need to bring as much with him as he can. 

3\. You will need two coats, a quarter, a white rose, a blanket, a flashlight, extra batteries, lots of food and water, and an object of importance to the deceased (a necklace, a beloved book, etc). 


Richter packs double what he thinks he’ll need. He’s always worn his Sea Fire cloak, but he’s not sure if he’ll need another. He packs a lab coat for Aster and two winter coats, one in his size, one in Aster’s, just in case. He packs several coins, and silk and ribbon roses. He’ll cut real ones on the way, but he doesn’t know how long the journey will be. Better to have artificial ones just in case. Two blankets, the thin thermal kind and the thick fluffy kind. One for warmth, one for comfort. He brings a pocket flashlight in addition to the heftier one and more batteries than he can count. He even brings extra bulbs just in case and a candle and lighter. He’s over-preparing. But there’s no way he’s going into this underprepared. He’s not going to risk anything. He can always dump things if he needs less. But he can’t come back without Aster. His rations are ample and varied. He snacks on some sunflower seeds he got for the trip. He’s brought Aster’s favorites too, but he’s not sure how well the donuts will keep. No matter. He can buy more for the boy if, no, _when_ he comes back. Richter has to think _when_. He has to believe this will work. Even if it’s delusional and he knows it, he needs to believe it. His fingers glance over Aster’s pendant on his bracelet. He’s always wanted to give this back… He’s so glad someone found it, even if it broke his heart receiving it after-- no, he can’t think about that. Aster will come back. He has to. Richter has to hang onto the insane optimism that this will work. Because even if things don’t work out, the happiness of believing they will is probably the only thing keeping him from breaking down and taking up the demons’ offer... 

4\. Wait until late spring. You’ll want it to be warm out when you return. 


It’s warm enough, he thinks. Especially with the chaotic weather, there’s no point in waiting. As far as he can tell, it’s not due to snow anytime soon. He knows how to start a fire if he needs to. He packs a few extra candles, lighters, and some flint and tinder just in case... 

5\. Put on some good hiking boots. You’ll be walking for a while. 


Boots were never his style. But he packs extra shoes, blister treatments, and some comfortable socks. He’s gone adventuring in these shoes plenty of times. He should be alright. 

6\. Enter any forest. The denser the better. Walk until the sun goes down. 


Ozette is closest. The woods are known for being maze-like, though the people of the town aren’t known for being friendly to his kind. He camps nearby rather than seeking an inn. The next day, he loses himself in the forest. The muddy earth seems to absorb him. Richter can’t tell if it’s his own wishful thinking or if this is the forest's way of pulling him in. He doesn’t use his compass. He doesn’t mark his path. If he dies out here, he doesn’t want anyone coming for him, and he doubts this will work if he moves into the forest with any other intention. If this forest truly held such magic, it won’t want him remembering where he’s ended up. Besides, it’s probably never the same place twice. He’s not used to the trekking, and the breaks he spends for meals let his body feel the ache in his legs. He spends more time tending to blisters than actually eating. Or maybe it just feels that way. The ceaseless walking starves him. He’s glad for the extra rations he packed. 

7\. Look to your left when it becomes too dark to see. 


The twin moons are infuriatingly bright. Richter feels the tickle of terrible thoughts. What if this is all a joke? What if he gets eaten alive in these woods? What if he finds what he’s looking for and the price is more than what’s written in these instructions? What if it never gets dark enough to know for sure? He keeps walking, knees quaking. He wants to stop but he can’t. He has to keep moving until the next step. He stares at the ground, wandering, his shoes rubbing painfully against the insteps of his feet where blisters have risen and fallen, leaving loose, raw skin. He rests, only for a moment, leaning against a tree, tired eyes closing, recovering from the strain of squinting in the dim light. When he opens them, it’s as if the world itself has dropped away around him. The smell of the dirt and moss and leaves has evaporated. The sounds of crickets slowly give way to silence. He can’t see anything at all. His eyes dart left. And, at first, there is nothing. He turns, he keeps turning, it feels like he makes several rotations before he sees it. 

8\. You will see a white glow in the distance. Walk towards it. 


The relief that flows through him overwhelms the unease he feels in this silent, black forest. It’s not a lie. He summons the strength to walk. The glow seems to move away from him at first, but he soon feels progress. It’s a soft, ethereal glow, like a single candle held beyond a sheer veil. 

9\. Be careful where you step. Some woods like to trip you. 


Richter is careful not to fall, but he’s so focused on the light, so desperate not to lose it, that he can’t help stumbling through the dark. It’s as if the woods are teasing him, testing him. But he doesn’t waver, doesn’t anger. Richter presses on toward the light. 

10\. Remember your loved one’s name. 


He could never forget. 

11\. Say aloud how much you missed them and why you want them back. 


“I’m coming, Aster. Just a little longer. I can’t wait to see your smile again. To hear that laugh. The silence was unbearable.” He speaks in a hushed tone, but the forest listens. His words refract off of unseen trees as he makes his way closer to the light. “I miss our talks. I miss your eyes. I miss the warmth of your back against mine in the evenings, and the tickle of your hair in my nose every morning. I miss your scent. I miss the way you peel your ice cream sandwiches and dissect your candy bars.” Richter’s running out of specifics. Or rather, there’s too many. How can he ever convey that he misses _everything?_ Just… _Everything._ It will all sound like too much. It will sound insincere. None of it is grand. None of it is life-changing. There isn’t any one thing Richter misses about Aster. “I miss feeling whole.” 

12\. The glow will disappear once you reach it. When it does, turn on your flashlight and sit down. 


With every phrase Richter utters, the glow draws nearer until it swallows him up, fading as if it never existed. His fingers tremble from exhaustion as he fishes the flashlight from his bag. The base is flared with a reflective interior coating, creating a lantern when he pulls the base downward, releasing light into the surrounding woods. Even with the light, the forest seems sapped of all color, and he can scarcely see the silhouettes of the trees around him, let alone any details. It’s the kind of forest you see in a dream: the impression of trunks and roots and towering canopies with nothing else distinguishing about it. Richter settles on the ground where he stands. The crunch of leaves accompanies his movements, but he can’t grasp a single leaf on the ground around him. The lantern flashlight scarcely shows the roots surrounding him. Richter digs in his pack for his canteen, wolfing down a prepared meal, grateful for the rest and for the confirmation that this venture was more than just a naive prayer for something lost and never to return. His body aches and the ground feels icy to the touch. He huddles close against the tree trunk, unpacking. He’s rarely needed a blanket in the wilderness. He’s not sure if he wants it for warmth or comfort. 

13\. Place the flashlight next to you and go to sleep. Do not be afraid. If you’ve made it this far, then the forest is on your side. It will not let you be harmed. 


Richter sets the flashlight beside him, wrapping himself in his blanket. He doesn’t bother lying down. He doesn’t remember when he got used to sleeping this way. He only knows it was after Aster… He touches the amulet, the bauble on the bracelet he now wears. “Soon. Soon…” He closes his eyes and waits. His body slips away. He feels nothing. Sleep drags him into a peaceful void. 

14\. When you awake, the sun will be up. 


Richter rubs his eyes. He’s not sure how long he slept. He feels rested beyond what he’s used to, but unlike his usual rests, where he can estimate how much time has passed, he can’t begin to calculate how long he’s been asleep. He’s had no dreams, he’s had no disturbances. He hasn’t even moved from what he can tell. It feels like a hundred years and 5 minutes all at the same time. The sun is bright and directly overhead. Richter has never seen that happen before, not in Ozette. There are very few forested areas in Aselia where the sun shines directly from above in the afternoon. Richter wonders if he’s even in Aselia anymore. The forest seems more or less normal in this light, the color has returned, but it still feels strange and dreamlike. Perhaps it is that the forest is just a bit too pristine. Few have ever been here. 

15\. Turn off your flashlight and put it back in your bag. 


He reads through the instructions again, making sure everything’s the same. He packs everything away, including his flashlight. 

16\. You will be standing just outside of a fairy ring. Do not enter it. 


It’s true. A ring of mushrooms, untouched, unmuddled, stands lush in the clearing. The sun shines down upon each glistening cap, somehow still covered in dew. This place is clearly a place of magic. Richter does his morning business before proceeding with the next step. 

17\. Take out your food and water. Eat some, but leave the rest at your feet. 


Richter eats a bit more than is comfortable. From what he knows, it may take a while to get back and there will be temptations. He doesn’t want to go hungry, to grow weak, to be unable to continue, or worse, lose himself to a fate worse than death if he disobeys the instructions. He leaves plenty behind. The journey back will be just as taxing, and he’ll need his strength when he returns. And with luck, Aster will need it too. 

18\. Step into the ring and place the quarter on the ground, tails up. 


Richter is careful not to tread on the mushrooms, stepping gently into the grass. Fairy rings are born on the graves of trees, feasting on the nutrients of unseen rotting roots. But Richter sees no evidence of a tree ever having been here. He doesn’t question it. He places a coin into the center of the circle. 

19\. Tell your loved one you are coming for them. They will not hear you. 


“Aster. I’m coming. I’ll be there soon.” 

20\. The quarter will sink into the ground. You may now enter the Underworld. 


As if sinking into a pot of honey, the coin tilts, slowly being absorbed into the earth. Richter touches the ground where it vanished. It feels soft as if the earth beneath the grass is muddy. 

21\. Put on one of the coats. It will be very cold. 


Richter bundles up. The extra layer limits his movement a bit, but he supposes it can’t be helped. 

22\. Close your eyes and imagine that you are sinking into the ground. Do not open them until you smell smoke. 


Richter waits. It takes longer than he thought it would, and it doesn’t feel like falling. The smell of smoke is pungent at first, but once his eyes are open, the smell fades. 

23\. When you open your eyes, you will be underground. A tunnel will stretch out before you. 


Richter’s not sure where the ambient light is coming from. It feels like he’s standing at the mouth of a cave, but looking behind him, above him, around him, yields no evidence of an entrance. He’s at a dead end, and the dim light seems to come from every direction but the hallway of stone and earth that stretches out ahead of him. 

24\. Replace the batteries in your flashlight. It will get dark very soon 


Richter saves the old batteries, replacing them with fresh ones. He shines the beam down the tunnel before him. The beam illuminates the walls for a few feet, then disappears, swallowed up by the gaping abyss. Richter gathers himself and begins to walk. 

25\. Follow the tunnel. You will feel cold. This is normal. 


Richter pulls the coat tighter around himself, it doesn’t help much. The sensation is baked into him as if the cold is flowing from his very soul. He tests a theory, removing a glove. True enough, the ambient air doesn’t feel cold at all, but slowly, the exposed hand begins to tingle and throb as cold seeps into it from deep inside. He breathes on the exposed skin. His breath produces no warmth. He puts the glove back on, shoving the hand into his coat pocket until the bitter chill ebbs away. Yes, it was normal to feel a bit chilly underground or in a cave. But not like this. Truly, this was supernatural. Richter wonders how many people have dared to make this journey before, how much experimenting it must have taken the person who wrote the instructions, how many people stumbled into the journey and got this far and succumbed to the unnatural cold of this place. 

26\. You will soon come across a small house. Knock on the door. 


The house was not described in any detail, and Richter suspects that it appears differently to everyone, or perhaps it appears differently every time it’s seen. A cottage of rustic wood sits in an alcove to one side of the path. Richter wonders where the materials came from and how they came to be in the underworld. Perhaps these were the remains of the tree that the fairy ring marked? Richter had no way of knowing, but it seemed fitting. He knocks thrice, awaiting an answer. 

27\. A dark-haired woman will open it. There is something wrong with her eyes. Do not stare. 


This presents a bit of a problem. When one is asked not to think of a red balloon, one inevitably imagines the very thing the words conjure to mind: a bright, red, floating vessel of gas tied to a string. Richter does his best not to stare, but there is indeed something wrong with the woman’s eyes. They’re warm enough, friendly enough. But Richter feels as though he can see through them. He can’t quite describe what he sees beyond them. Swirling colors and flecks of light pass across her translucent irises and are gone just as quickly. Richter feels as if the entire universe is in her eyes. Or, rather, that her eyes are windows into the beyond, where everything exists, the infinite captured in tiny glass bottles. Richter looks down. 

“Good day, miss. May I come in?” 

28\. She will ask you for something pretty. Give her the rose 


The strange woman eyes him up and down, a bemused smile on her face. “Perhaps. Do you have anything for me? Something pretty? Something from the surface?” 

Richter pulls out the white roses. “Take your pick.” He aims his gaze for her cheeks, not daring to meet her eyes again, lest he be caught staring.  
  
The woman chuckles. “Goodness. So many? How many favors were you expecting here?” 

Richter swallows, biting his lip. “As many as I can get away with,” he answers after some hesitation. Aster’s not the only person he cares about that has died, but he’s the one Richter cares most about getting back. The instructions said nothing about how to bring back more than one person, and Richter dares not to advertise his greed, but if the woman had advice on the matter, if she’d seen this before, perhaps the gifts would be enough to loosen her lips.  
  
The stranger laughs a deep, throaty laugh. Richter swears he can see fangs past her rosy lips. “Bold. I like you. But I think you’ll find little use in asking for more than one, even if it was my place to grant them.” 

She takes a cut rose - a formerly living rose - as her token, and Richter puts the rest away. 

29\. She will smile at you and invite you in for something to eat. Enter the house, but politely refuse any food. 


“Do come in. Visitors are rare, as you can imagine.” 

“Yes. The journey is a difficult one.” 

“And not many know the path.” The woman guides him inside. The interior is illuminated by the fire from a hearth at the opposite end of the room. Richter smells, first, the mellow fragrance of lavender before he’s hit by the scent of wood smoke, and finally, an unidentifiable perfume of some sort of food. Richter can’t put his finger on it, exactly. There’s a blend of herbs and spices in the air that he can’t tie specifically to anything. But it makes his mouth water. 

“Hungry?” The woman asks. “I’ve just made up a meal. You’re welcome to have some.” Her smile is not unkind, but Richter doesn’t trust it. 

“No, thank you. I ate before I came.” And it’s true. If she’s some sort of fae who can sense his thoughts, he hasn’t lied. It’s polite but direct and will hopefully dissuade her from making further temptations. 

“Shame. I’ve made plenty and it’s not often I get a chance to ask about the flavor.” 

“I really shouldn’t.” Richter seats himself at her table, holding his bag tightly in his lap. 

30\. Talk to her for a while. She likes the company. 


“Pity. Perhaps another time?”  
  
“Perhaps.” Richter shrugs. “But you said yourself, I will probably not get more than one ‘favor’ out of this trip.” 

“They aren’t mine to give. Who knows. You may get lucky.” She chuckles, pouring herself a cup of tea. 

“Tell me, is there a name I can call you?” Richter asks, hand resting on Aster’s amulet. It’s warmer in this cabin than out in the tunnel, but despite the fire, he doesn’t feel the need to remove his coat as he’d expect to.  
  
“I have many names. You may choose any of them. Chances are someone has known me by that name.” 

“Even Martel?” 

The stranger chuckles. “Even Martel.”  
  
“Well, then, Martel… Tell me. Do many make it back from this trip?” 

“Curious as a cat, are we? More than you’d think. Whether they return with what they set out for is another matter.” 

Richter gulps. “That’s a common occurrence? Returning with something unexpected?” 

“Or empty-handed.” Faux-Martel nods.  
  
Richter’s heart drops. “D’you have an estimate on the percentage?” 

“It wouldn’t affect you much even if I could give you a number. It’s not a matter of chance or preparedness. One cannot take what is not there in the first place.” 

Richter thinks he understands. “People looking for those who ‘arrived on time?’” 

“Mostly. Though there are those who seek the living in these halls and those who arrive too late to claim what they seek.” 

“There’s a limit?”  
  
“Not exactly. More like the souls are restless. Few like to linger here.” 

Richter’s not sure he’s following, but he nods anyway. “Are we--? Are we in the Ginnungagap?” 

Faux-Martel laughs. “Goodness no. That’s Ratatosk’s domain.” 

“But we’re underground.” 

“Magma and geysers share an origin beneath the surface, yes? But they don’t share a domain.” 

“Don’t suppose there’s a Summon Spirit ruling this domain?” 

Her smile turns coy. “An interesting proposition. You operate on the assumption that we’re beneath your land’s surface. How do you know we’re not somewhere else entirely?” 

“Are we not beneath Aselia?” 

“Is that what they call the lands these days?” 

“Last I checked, yes. The united lands are known as Aselia.”  
  
“The planet is whole again? Fascinating. Since when?” 

“A year ago or so.” 

“Veeery interesting, indeed! How are things up there, then?” 

“Not the best. You’re familiar with Ratatosk?” 

“The Spirit of the World Tree, yes.” 

“It’s a long story, but…” 

“I have nothing but time.” 

31\. She’ll tell you a secret. Pretend that it doesn’t bother you. 


Richter tells her his story. She listens intently, asking for clarification or elaboration at some points, but remaining attentive and quiet for most of the talk.  
  
“You’ve lived through an awful lot, haven’t you?” 

Richter shrugs. “Enough, I guess. I didn’t ask for an exciting life.” 

“True enough.” She finishes her tea, standing. She leans over, bending, lips brushing against his ear. “But you know… It could have been even more exciting. You finding that book only ever happens in one of a billion universes. Be grateful you’re one of the lucky ones. You could have gone down in history. But I doubt you’d like the reason why.” 

Richter tries not to show how unnerved this makes him. “Ah. I suppose I am grateful. I’ll be even more grateful if this all goes to plan.” 

“We’ll see.” Faux-Martel smirks. 

32\. Eventually, she will give you an item. I do not know what it will be. It’s different for everyone. 


Richter’s not sure what to expect when the woman eventually rises. “I have a little something here I think is meant for you.” She walks away to a cupboard, the hinges creak when she opens it. Richter sees nothing in it except for what she pulls out. It’s a sword, a long and broad blade, by the looks of the sheath, with the blade peculiarly attached to the guard and the grip connecting only to the rear of said guard. Attached to the grip at the gap between it and the blade is a small chain, and dangling from it is a familiar charm: a fish skeleton. _Just like Aqua’s earring._ Richter’s not sure he’s meant to recognize the blade. Aqua said that centurions don’t fight with their own power and thus have no need for such weapons. Is he meant to use this? Is this some representation of Aqua? That doesn’t feel quite right. Perhaps it’s symbolic. But symbolic of what he can’t tell. 

33\. Thank her for being so kind. She wasn’t always like this. 


Richter bows his head. “Thank you for your kindness and hospitality. This visit was a welcome reprieve.” 

The woman smiles, something flashing in her eyes, her teeth seeming unnaturally bright for a moment. “Ah, of course. Visitors aren’t common, and I’ve grown to like them. Especially pleasant ones such as yourself. Not many know how to mind their manners.” 

Richter chuckles a bit. “Glad you could appreciate what little I have to offer in that department.” 

Her hair moves, dancing on an otherwise undetectable breeze. “You’d be surprised at the number that stumble in here with no mind for courtesy. Perhaps the world above doesn’t care for your dour disposition, but here… here you’re the most _lively_ and well behaved we’ve had in a while.” 

34\. Say goodbye and exit the house. Continue down the tunnel. 


“Again, I’m happy I could be any sort of decent company. As you said, I’m not well-liked even by my own kind.” Richter offers her a handshake as he stands to leave. “I’m afraid I must depart, though. But I’m sure this is expected.” 

The Stranger’s fingers feel as though they’re no more substantial than mist in his grasp as she exchanges the farewell gesture. “Indeed. And I’m sure that paper in your pocket has told you to expect a future meeting. I will see you then.” 

Richter’s concerned by her knowledge of the paper and reaches to his pocket. She smiles that same fiendish too-bright smile.  
  
“Don’t worry yourself. I’ve no intention of standing in your way or obfuscating your journey. Besides, I know you’ve read that paper so many times already. Even if you don’t remember the words, you remember the contents.” 

Richter relaxes a bit. “As you say. But I enjoy the security.” 

“Of course. Once you’ve lost something as important as you have, you don’t easily let go of other comforts.” 

Richter releases her hand. “Goodbye for now, then.” 

The woman stands perfectly still, her door opening of its own accord to let Richter leave. “I’ll be waiting.” 

35\. You will be walking for a long time. If you need to sleep, do so. When you wake up, continue walking. 


Richter ran his hand along the tunnel wall every so often to ground himself, remind himself that this was real and not just an endless dream. The tunnel had no real features to speak of other than the cabin so far back. The visuals didn’t change, but the textures did. Some places had traces of roots, but those were the early stages. As deep as he was now, the earth was run through with veins of clay. He must not be very deep. Gradually he felt the path sloping, and the clay faded into pockets of gravel, then walls carved from stone. Eventually the walls grew smooth and the tunnel grew square. There were steps carved into the floor. Richter was surprised. He hadn’t imagined the underworld to have marks of civilization. Perhaps these were ruins? Or perhaps when a culture dies or a building crumbles, its architecture makes a home in the afterlife as well? Richter didn’t care for this theory. He wasn’t one for animism. Mourning people was enough. He didn’t want to start feeling bad for the abandoned buildings dotting the world above. But a better explanation escaped him. Unless the spirits took the initiative to shape the underworld around them, or, barring that, that the spirits had some sort of effect on the landscape or his perception of it, Richter couldn’t imagine how this tunnel had come to bear the marks of man. 

When his legs began failing him again, he leaned against the frigid walls, resting his arms on his knees and his chin on his arms. When his eyelids grew heavy, he bundled in a blanket and slept, a shallow slumber that he only roused from when his body grew restless and he could not bear lying on the cold floor anymore. The blanket didn’t keep much of the cold away, but it felt warmer after his visit with the strange woman than before. Regrettably, his mind didn’t seem to benefit much from the rest at all. He was too focused on what would come next. Sometimes, to try to relax, he would pull out the sword and ponder its significance. The thoughts led nowhere, but they provided some diversion. 

36\. You will find food in your bag. Do not eat any of it. 


Occasionally he would reach into his bag for a blanket, or some batteries, or some treatment for his blistering feet. Guaranteed, the first thing his fingers would reach would be something he hadn’t brought with him. Sometimes the food was recognizable, he’d found at least two sandwiches that he knew he didn’t pack this way. Sometimes the food was foreign. The only thing marking it as food was the enticing aroma. Sometimes the food would look exactly like something he’d packed but left on the surface. But every time he stuffed it back in the bag, his hand came back with what he’d been searching for in the first place. He was hungry, though not painfully so, but the temptation was bothering him. In every myth he’d ever heard, eating food from the underworld or food of the fae, food from anywhere that wasn’t the mundane surface world, was signing your own death warrant. You didn’t always die, but you guaranteed that your soul eternally belonged to someone else. He was grateful for the note. Had he not left his food on the surface, he might have fallen prey to whatever this test or trap was. The knowledge that this food was not meant to be in his bag was perhaps the strongest tether holding him back from biting into it, though he certainly had sense enough in his saner moments to know it would be inadvisable for a plethora of other reasons beyond what folklore told him. He did his best to ignore the occasional tempting aromas that wafted from his bag and made sure to put back anything he found. The note hadn’t said to throw the found food away. Part of him suspected that this was because the food could not be physically thrown away, another part suspected that even if he could, it would be unfairly tempting others in the future who might make this trip, scattering literal breadcrumbs along their path to remind them just how famished they were. Yet another part of him was convinced this was some sort of sensory illusion, and the food he kept finding was actually something he’d brought with him, disguised or transfigured to get him to eat it. As much as he wanted to experiment and find out what the boundaries of the rule actually were, he couldn’t risk it, not when he’d come this far. 

37\. You will get to a river guarded by the woman you met before. Do not ask her how she got here so fast. 


Richter eventually hears the sound of dripping water, then the soft rush of a stream, gradually echoing stronger as he approaches. When he’s able to see it by the glint of reflected light from his flashlight, he can tell. It’s a wide and lazy river. He thinks of the River Styx from ancient myths. He always thought it was a river of fire, but maybe that was just how decades of oral tradition had perverted the original truth. Or perhaps the river was originally one of flame and had since calmed to something less hostile? Or perhaps he’d never heard the right tale. He can’t recall ever reading a story about the river himself. He’s only heard the stories from others. What little he knew personally was from anthologies mentioning the mythology as part of a history text. Or perhaps the river of fire is in Nifelheim where the demons reside. As he grows nearer, he can make out the shape of the strange woman. Her eyes have the same strange effect even at this distance. Even when he shines the light away from her, the glittering of her eyes pierces the darkness. Richter’s not sure if she can see him or not and does his best to avert his gaze. 

38\. Say hello and show her the item she gave to you. She will take it and give you your flower back. 


When Richter gets near enough, he raises his hand and greets her softly. His voice sounds deafening, even at a whisper. “Hello again.” 

“Hello Richter.” 

Richter doesn’t recall telling her his name. Then again, that secret from before speaks to a certain level of omnipotence if what she said is true. He dares not ask how she knows these things. “Martel.” He repeats the name he’s selected for her with an acknowledging nod. “I believe this is your price?” He hands Faux-Martel the sword and charm. 

“Indeed. Tell me, how was the weight?” 

Richter’s not sure what that’s supposed to mean. “Heavier than expected, but not unbearable.” 

She balances the blade on her fingertip. It behaves as if it has no weight at all in her hands. “Interesting.” She attaches the scabbard to her belt and hands Richter the rose he gave her before. It’s still crisp and fresh. The petals have not softened, wilted, or dried. But the sweet scent is gone. 

39\. You are now allowed to cross the river. Get in the boat. Don’t think about how it wasn’t there before. 


It’s not the boat’s sudden materialization that startles Richter as much as the lamp and bell that’s come with it. It’s an old lantern with a candle for light. It’s dim, but the fact that he didn’t even notice it until now startles him more. The only sign of its arrival was the faint toll of the bell, a deep gong like a shrine bell. All the more startling because he didn’t hear it at all until it arrived at the shore. All the more evidence that it just appeared without cause or reason. The land here really does like to play tricks. Faux Martel helps him step into the vessel and seat himself and gives the boat the shove it needs off the shore. Richter turns to thank her but she’s no longer on the bank of the river. Vanished without a trace. Richter doesn’t ponder it too much. 

40\. Let the boat take you to the other shore. The fog will make it hard to see. Trust me that it’s better that way 


Richter is tempted to touch the waters beneath him as the fog swallows up the little dinghy, but he doesn’t want to be greeted by their absence. Or something worse. He’s not even sure how this boat will reach the opposite shore. By all accounts, the current should drag him downstream. There are no oars. If there’s something more than magic guiding the boat, he doesn’t want to disturb it, as curious as he is. Perhaps that’s why the fog exists at all, to hide whatever force is helping him. Maybe there’s some Eldritch creature guiding the boat with slithery arms like a squid. Maybe the boat has sprouted flippers like a turtle and is piloting itself. Maybe there are countless unseen bony hands carrying the ship. He can’t help but imagine, but everything he thinks of is beyond absurd. The note says it’s better that way, so perhaps it really is some horrible magical creature. He wonders how the author of the note discovered what was beyond the fog. Maybe it was all a joke. But Richter doesn’t want to go on testing that theory. 

41\. When you get off the boat, the fog will be too dense to see clearly. 


Richter doesn’t see or feel himself arrive, but he hears it. The soft scraping of the boat touching shore and another ringing of the bell. He waits until the boat stabilizes, and when it is no longer under the sway of the water, he stands, stepping onto land. His flashlight is no help in the thick fog, so he doesn’t bother wasting any more of the batteries. He begins walking forward. 

42\. You will start to come across wandering souls. They will not care that you are here. They are too miserable. 


When the damp of the fog leaves his face, he turns his light back on. Just like with the tunnel, this area is hewn from the surrounding stone. While natural features do remain, there are markings of civilization around. Slabs of stone at a height to sit comfortably, though a bit short, areas that look like countertops and storefronts. Richter takes a peek inside some hollowed out “rooms” but finds nothing. No sign of anyone living within. He wonders if perhaps bargaining for the souls of the dead used to be a common occurrence. Maybe the beings of this underworld used to live here. People like the Faux Martel, making deals. The thought makes it all the more creepy. Like an abandoned and overgrown theme park, Richter’s mind doesn’t like the concept: a place meant for living, thriving, enjoyment, now abandoned. It’s a survival instinct, he’s sure. A way of telling when danger is near. If no one else is here but there are signs people WERE here, then shouldn’t that mean there was a reason to leave? A danger of some sort? He squashes this part of his mind. People aren’t _meant_ to be here. It’s not that there’s a threat, it’s that this place is not for him to linger.  
  
When he comes across the spirits, they pay him no mind. He’d always expected them to glow. They are pale and translucent and almost iridescent under his light, but they fade into the darkness as soon as his light leaves them. They’re quiet. Perhaps they’re unable to cry. Perhaps they’ve forgotten how. 

43\. The silence will be unbearable. Hum a song to yourself. 


Richter can’t help but think of a sad song. The melody has wound its way through his mind ever since he found the note. He doesn’t remember when he first heard it, only that the lyrics seem to be about this journey he’s on. It’s uncanny. 

“Far away, far away, like a sad, sad tale/ If you one day awake and I’m no longer there/ In a forest deep, you will sink like a stone/ And from that moment on, you must go on your own.” His voice echoes through the vacant tunnels. This is the first time in a while that his surroundings behaved in a way he expected. The echo is eerily natural. But the note is right. The sound is preferable to the silence. And who knows, maybe it will bring the spirits here something. A catharsis or a comfort. 

“Feeling the warmth and the love in the hands that we hold/ If ever comes a day when they gently unfold/ Ringing bells, under spells, in a place where no one yells/ You must go there alone, come and find me on your own.” Richter keeps an eye out for Aster. He doubts he’ll find the other this early, but it can’t hurt to be thorough. “No one knows, made no show, we are really here alone/ Broken voice made its choice as it rings out in rejoice/ There were two, now there’s one broken shadow on the ground/ You must go there alone, this is something that you know.” 

44\. You’ll be wandering around for a while. Don’t give up hope. You’ll find them soon. 


Richter’s come this far, and with insurmountable proof he doesn’t even think of giving up. He’ll keep looking for one thousand years if that’s what it takes. He’s more hopeful now than ever before. Unless he fell down the stairs on his hurry out of Sybak and this is all one massive hallucination, then he really does have a chance. And he’ll hang onto that, no matter how long it takes. 

He takes several breaks, humming to pass time and drive away the silence, taking the time he spends resting to survey each spirit surrounding him, making absolutely sure that none of them is someone he’s missing. 

45\. When you do, softly say hello. 


Mid hum, his breath catches. He’s not sure how long it’s been or how far from the boat he’s come. But that cowlick is unmistakable, and those soft eyes. It takes all his self-control not to shout, or sob. Aster’s eyes are so very sad. But it’s him. It’s _him_. 

The redhead rushes over, kneeling. He remembers not to touch. “H-hi. Hello.” He does his best not to cry. His voice is the softest he’s ever heard it. It almost doesn’t sound like his voice. It must be the smile. Richter hasn’t smiled in so long. The words don’t sound the same when they’re happy. 

46\. They will not remember you. Don’t take this personally. They don’t remember themselves either. 


Aster doesn’t look at Richter at first. And when he does, it’s a fleeting glance, before his eyes stare through Richter and then return to the floor. 

47\. Don’t touch them, not yet. 


Richter has to sit on his hands. He just wants to scoop the blond up but he can’t. He can’t risk upsetting Aster, or worse, breaking some rule that will make everything go wrong. 

48\. Their eyes will seem far away. It’s alright. They are listening. 


Aster’s focus remains on the floor, even as Richter settles down and begins talking. “Shit weather here, huh?” It’s all Richter can think of to say. 

49\. Talk to them for a while. Don’t give your name and do not tell them theirs. They don’t trust you yet. 


Richter doesn’t know how to proceed with these rules. He wants to collapse into Aster and tell him how much he’s missed him, but he can’t. “It would be nice if there was sunshine. Or flowers. Or something other than this cold darkness. Do you remember flowers? I have some with me.” He shows Aster one of the ribbon roses. “It’s not real, but it almost looks real, doesn’t it? I wonder if you’ve missed these.” 

Aster’s eyes linger on the flower a moment, look past it, then suddenly refocus. “F-flower? You have a flower?” 

“That’s right. Do you remember what these are called?” 

Aster’s face contorts. Richter feels his heart drop at the sudden confusion on Aster’s features and worries he’s done something wrong. But after a moment the focus returns to his eyes and his face relaxes. “The flower. It’s a rose, isn’t it?” 

Richter nods. “That’s right. You can hold it if you like.” 

Aster holds out his hand and Richter places the folded ribbon in his waiting palm. The blond runs his fingers over it. “P-pretty.” His brow furrows. “Wait… It’s... It’s warm…” 

50\. They’ll soon realize you are alive. When they do, answer their questions about the world above. 


Aster’s face contorts again before he finally seems to come fully back to himself. The spark is there when his eyes meet Richter’s again. “You. You’re alive, aren’t you?” 

“That’s right.” 

“You remember the surface.” 

“I do.” 

“What did it look like when you left it.” 

“I came here during the spring. The winds are still crisp but the sun is warm and the grasses are green and flowering.” 

“The sun. Tell me… how warm is the sun?” 

“Warmer than me, for sure.” Richter smiles. “Much warmer than here.” 

“But not hot.” Aster seems to start remembering. “Yes. Yes I remember. Warm but not hot. Not too hot. Not until summer.” Aster thinks a long while. “Tell me… Am I remembering right? Is the world whole again?” 

“Yes.” Richter nods. 

“But when I… when I left… I remember something being wrong.” 

“The weather. The weather is all kinds of messy.” 

“That’s right.” Color and substance seem to return to Aster as he starts remembering more. “Tell me, is it still snowing in Triet?”  
  
“Yes.” 

“Has it been snowing there long?” 

“Only about a year.” 

“So I haven’t been gone long at all.” Aster is putting things together. “Are people surviving?” 

“For now. Things could be worse.” 

“Are they suffering?” 

“Isn’t everyone?” Richter jokes. “No more than usual I should think. Food may not be growing where it’s meant to, and vegetables are still in short supply, but things are adjusting.There’s still meat, and the trees bear fruit. How much and when is irregular, but there’s enough.” 

“Do you know about Sybak?” 

“Yes. I do.” 

“What’s it like there?” 

“There are still lightning storms. Nothing’s been irreparably damaged, thankfully, last time I was there, but the world’s still crazy.” 

“I remember.” Aster nods. “I think… back when I was alive, I was concerned about that.” There’s a long lull in conversation. Finally Richter speaks. 

51\. Ask them if they are cold. The answer will be yes. 


“You cold?” 

“So very cold.” Aster nods. 

52\. Offer them the coat you are wearing. It will already be warm. You have body heat, they do not. 


Richter removes his outer coat, helping Aster into it. The blond buries himself inside it, tucking his knees in through the bottom and shrugging the shoulders up to his face. 

53\. When they take it. Put on your other coat. 


Richter pulls another coat from his bag and puts it on. Like everything, it’s cold, but he adjusts after a bit. He hopes it helps Aster more than it’s helped him. 

54\. At this point, they will ask if you know them. Say yes and tell them their name. 


“Thank you,” Aster whispers. 

“No problem.” Richter smiles. 

There’s another brief lull before Aster speaks again. “Do you… Do you know me?” 

“I do. You’re Aster Laker.” 

A wide grin spreads across Aster’s face. “Oh. I like that name. It does sound familiar, doesn’t it? I think I’ll like being called that.” 

55\. They will like having an identity again. Try not to cry when they smile. 


Richter almost fails. He feels tears sting in his eyes. “I’ll like calling you that again.” 

56\. Hand them their item of importance. It will help them trust you. 


Richter removes his bracelet, taking off the pendant that belonged to Aster. “This was yours.” 

Aster stares at it a moment, his grin growing even wider. “Oh! So it is! I wore this as a necklace, right?” 

“Exactly.” Richter chokes back more tears as he helps Aster put it on. 

“Mom gave this to me, I think. Do you know my mom?” 

“No. But you did talk a lot about her.” 

“Is she alive?” 

“I don’t know. I think so.” 

“I’d love to see her again.” Aster touches the pendant. “I remember thinking about her before I died. I think she must be alive. She was young enough when I was alive so unless something happened--” 

“Then she should be alive,” Richter confirms. 

57\. Tell them your name and ask them if they want to leave. 


“You must know a lot about me, huh? What’s your name?” 

“My name is Richter Abend.” 

Aster thinks about the name “Richter. That’s right. I know that name. You were with me when I died.” 

“Yes.” 

“I’m sorry. I don’t remember very much except right before I died. I’m not sure who you are to me. But if you came here for me, we must have been close. If that’s true, it probably made you sad when I died. I’m sorry that happened.” 

Richter wipes his eyes. “Don’t apologize. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.” Richter’s dreading what comes next. He knew if he even made it this far, the next bit could break him. “Do you want to leave here? Do you want to come back with me? I know how to get out of here.” 

58\. If they say yes, take their hand. They will feel like a corpse. Try not to let this faze you. 


Aster seems surprised. “Can I? I’m dead, aren’t I? At least, I think I am. I remember dying. Am I really allowed to go back?” 

“I think so.” Richter gives Aster a comforting smile. 

Aster thinks a moment. “I really don’t remember much other than dying and how scary it was. Did I have a good life?” 

“You smiled more than anyone else I knew so… I think you did.” 

Aster smiles that familiar smile. “Then… yes. Yes. I think I would like to go back. At the very least, I want to see the sun again. I miss the sun.” 

Richter smiles back. “Me too. It’s dreadful down here. Come. I’ll take you back.” He holds out his hand and Aster takes it. Even with how chilly it is, Aster’s hand feels even colder. It’s clammy and feels wrinkled, though it looks completely unblemished. Richter grips it tightly. 

59\. Do not let go of their hand. 


A stampede couldn’t make him let go. 

60\. Walk back to the river. You will find it. The Keepers don’t like the Living in the Underworld. 


Richter guides Aster back. He still keeps an eye out for others he recognizes, but despite seeing different souls on the way back, none of them are people he’s looking for. He won’t keep Aster waiting. He won’t be greedy. It’ll be enough if he just gets Aster. But if fate deigns to place, say, his parents in his path, he would be grateful. He arrives at the river bank before meeting anyone else he knows. The trip seems shorter than it was before. He supposes it’s better this way. 

61\. The woman you met earlier will be there. Give her the rose again. She will give you back the item from her house. 


“Hello again, Martel.” 

“Martel? That sounds familiar too.” 

“You’ll find out when we’re back on the surface.” Richter smiles. “Tell me, truly, if you’re able. I understand if not…” He looks to the Faux-Martel again. “Is there anything left here for me?” 

“What favors you are granted would be placed in your path, if that’s what you want to know.” She nods. “If you were meant to find it, you will have found it.” 

Richter shrugs. “Even if you’re lying, I suppose it wouldn’t do to linger, would it?” 

“Certainly not. By some measures, you already have more than the powers that be would like to give.” 

Richter clasps Aster’s hand tighter. “Most definitely. He’s more than I deserve. But can you blame me?” 

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” She smiles. She accepts the rose Richter offers and returns the blade. It’s heavier than Richter remembers. Aster seems to remember the charm. 

“I’ve seen that fishy thing before, haven’t I?” 

“Yes.” 

“Does it belong to you?” 

“No. But it belongs to someone we know.” 

“I feel like it’s important for some reason.” 

“It might be. We’ll ask them when we get back to the surface.” 

62\. Get in the boat. 


Richter helps Aster into the boat. He doesn’t let go of Aster for even a moment. Faux-Martel shoves the boat off the shore, just as before. They disappear into the mists. 

63\. When you reach the shore, exit the boat. 


The bell sounds and Richter steps off first, helping Aster off afterward. He doesn’t dare let go. 

64\. Your loved one will have some trouble keeping up. They are exhausted. The dead cannot eat or sleep, no matter how much they want to. 


Richter goes slowly, but Aster always seems to lag behind. It’s fine. As long as they keep moving, they’ll be out eventually. 

65\. Keep walking. Try not to notice how hungry you are. 


Richter is famished. But he knows Aster must be even more hungry. As the note said, the dead have no comforts in this place. He doesn’t dare complain. But he does offer assurance. “When we get out of here, we can have a picnic. I bet you’d like that.” 

Aster nods. “I don’t really remember what foods I like, but you do, don’t you?” 

“That’s right.” 

“Then you’ll have to get me lots and lots of it.” 

“Of course. We’ll have a feast.” Richter smiles. 

66\. Do not eat the food in your bag. 


Richter’s not even tempted, though he’s hungrier now than ever before, and as much as it pains him to know Aster must be bearing the hunger of at least a year without food, he doesn’t have the nerve to offer anything from the bag to Aster either. He doesn’t know if the rules are different for the dead. But as before, he’s not willing to take risks, especially not now. Not now that he has Aster. 

67\. While you walk, talk to your loved one. They don’t know it, but they’ve missed you. 


“You seem really nice,” Aster says as they walk. “I bet I’m going to like getting to know you again.” 

“I wasn’t always nice.” Richter chuckles. 

“Really? I don’t believe that.” Aster laughs. 

“Well, if you get your memory back on the surface, you’ll know how true it is. And if not, you’ll probably see the grumpier side of me at some point. But I was softer with you than others.” 

“Soft, huh? I wonder what kind of relationship we had. We must have been close if you came all this way for me.” 

“You could say that.” 

“I hope we can be that close again! Do you promise to reintroduce me to all my friends?” 

“If you don’t remember them, I’ll do whatever I can to reconnect you. I’m definitely not the only one who’s going to be happy that you’re back.” 

“Did I have a lot of friends?” 

“Some. Do you remember Rilena?” 

Aster thinks for a bit. “I remember the name, but I’m not sure I remember who that is, sorry.” 

“The two of you were close. We all were. She’ll definitely be glad to see you again. Do you remember what you used to do?” 

“Do?” 

“As a job?” 

Aster thinks again. “I remember it had something to do with Sybak. And Sybak reminds me of science. Was it something to do with that?” 

“Yes. You remember enough. I’m sure more of it will come back to you.”  
  
Aster’s quiet for a bit. “Say, Richter?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I didn’t die by accident, did I?” 

Richter hesitates. “Depends on what you mean by accident.” 

“I mean… I was killed right? I remember a searing pain in my chest. I remember you calling my name. I remember being scared but happy. Or… maybe it was more relieved? I’m sorry if I’m not making sense.” 

Richter grips Aster’s hand more tightly. “You make enough sense. Yes. You died violently. You were killed. Murdered. But it wasn’t your fault.” 

“Is… is the person who killed me still out there?” 

“Yes. But I don’t think they’re going to be a problem again. At least not for a while. I can protect you, and we’ll have other people to help us catch them. I promise I won’t let them hurt you again. Not ever.” 

“That’s good. Passing away doesn’t hurt, but the getting murdered part definitely does. I don’t want that to happen again. Will we be far away from where I died when we get back?” 

“I think so. I’m not sure exactly where I was when I got down here, but we should end up far enough away from it. We don’t have to go anywhere near it.”  
  
“That’s good.” 

68\. They will trip and fall at some point. They are very tired. 


Richter hopes the note is wrong, but it happens. He feels a sharp yank on his hand as Aster crumples. It’s less of a trip and more that his legs just seem to give out. Richter stops immediately. 

69\. They will start to cry. Don’t let this break your heart. Instead, tell them they will be able to rest soon. 


Richter had prayed the note would be wrong. But Aster breaks down. Richter supposes he should be grateful. If the note is correct to this level of detail, then as long as things keep going to the letter, he’ll get out of here with Aster safe and sound. “Hey, it’s okay,” Richter says, kneeling and wiping away Aster’s tears. Despite his cold and clammy flesh, his tears are the warmest thing he’s felt since coming down here. “You did really well. You’ll be able to rest soon. But we’ll have to keep moving, okay? Don’t worry. I’ll do all the work.” 

70\. For now, pick them up and carry them in your arms. Don’t worry, they will be very light. 


Richter is careful not to let Aster go at any point while he adjusts his grip and hoists Aster into his arms. Aster feels no heavier than the coat he’s wearing. Richter tries not to dwell on how surreal this is. 

71\. Try not to notice that they aren’t breathing. It will only make you feel sick. 


Aster’s chest had moved like he was breathing when they spoke, but it doesn’t move now that he’s quiet. It’s all Richter can think about. He knows the note mentioned it. He assures himself this is normal. It doesn’t help with the feeling that Richter has, like he’s carrying a weightless corpse, but his comfort isn’t really what’s important right now. He holds Aster tightly. 

72\. Keep talking. They will be too tired to respond, but they are listening. 


“I don’t know if it will be day or night when we return, but either way, you can have as much rest as you need when we get back. There should be food waiting, too.” Aster leans his head against Richter’s chest. His eyes indicate attentiveness. Exhausted attentiveness, but it’s enough to know Aster’s enjoying the sound of his voice. “When you’ve rested, we’ll go wherever you want, we can go back to Sybak or we can take a trip around the world so you can remember everything. We can even stay put for a while. No rush. All that matters is getting you feeling better.” Richter keeps talking, even as his throat feels scratchy. He’s not used to talking this much, especially not while fighting back tears. But he keeps talking. He doesn’t want Aster to feel alone for even a moment. 

73\. When you see the woman’s house, tell your loved one that you’re almost there. 


Richter perks up and picks up the pace. “You see that house, Aster? We’re almost out now. We’ll be there soon. Just a bit longer.” He hesitates a moment. The instructions don’t mention whether he’s meant to give the item back or not. Richter supposes the instructions would tell him to if he was meant to. He’s pretty sure he can’t take it out of the underworld anyway. He moves forward. 

74\. Keep walking and don’t turn around. 


75\. You’ll feel something watching you. 


76\. Don’t turn around. Please. 


Richter’s not sure how the author of the note knows not to look back. But it’s common in mythology. Looking back always means losing your loved one. He keeps Aster looking forward too. He takes no chances. Whether looking back will deprive him of his prize or reveal a terrifying monster waiting for an excuse to drag them into the depths, he doesn’t care. He keeps looking ahead. And he keeps Aster facing forward. 

77\. You’ll notice you’ve stopped talking. Start humming that song again. It will help stave off the fear. 


Richter hums. He isn’t used to singing in front of Aster, but the blond seems to like it. He wonders if Aster will know where he heard it if he gets his memories back. Richter would like to know. 

78\. Stop walking and place your loved one on the ground. Pull out the blanket and wrap them in it. Pick them up again and keep going. You’re almost there. 


Richter wasn’t sure when this step was meant to happen, but when Aster feels a bit heavier and begins shivering, he knows. He still maintains physical contact at all times, directing Aster to hold his ankle while he retrieves the blanket and swaddles him. He uses both blankets, the soft one and the warm one. Aster is harder to carry like this, but Richter doesn’t mind. He makes sure to retain skin to skin contact when he lifts the blond again. “Just a little longer.” 

79\. You’ll see a light up ahead. Feel the relief flooding through you and run towards it. 


Words can’t describe how he feels when the end of the path comes into view. He sprints as fast as his legs will carry him. He doesn’t care about the pain. The blisters are just a reminder of how far he’s come, and how all of it has been worth it. The sunshine feels so warm. 

80\. When you step out of the fairy ring, immediately place your loved one on the ground. 


The forest is bright. It definitely looks like Ozette’s forest. He sets Aster down and rubs his back. 

81\. Encourage them to breathe. They will have forgotten how to. 


“Just breathe.” Richter demonstrates with a deep inhale. Aster struggles a moment. Richter gives him a slight tickle. The reflex kicks in. Aster gasps a sharp inhale, releases a few giggles, and suddenly his body remembers. 

“Th-thanks.” He croaks, trying to keep breathing. 

“Don’t talk. Just breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Long and deep. You’ve got it.” 

82\. When they start to breathe again, retrieve the food that you left on the ground earlier. 


Richter props Aster up against a tree and gathers the bindle of food. It’s untouched. It seems as if only hours have passed if any time at all. He tastes the food himself first. It’s fresh. As hungry as he is, he dares not eat yet. Aster needs it more. 

83\. They’ll want to fall asleep. Make sure they eat and drink before they do so. 


Aster’s eyes are already closed, and he’s wrapped the blanket around himself tighter. “Sorry, Aster. Not yet.” 

Aster whines. “So… so tired.” 

“I know. You can sleep soon. As long as you want. But you need to eat first.” He presses a donut to Aster’s lips. 

Aster whines again, but when he licks the sugar off his lips, he seems convinced. “Hhhh… Sweet…” Richter holds it steady as Aster opens his mouth. He bites down, but not enough to break through. Only enough to compress the fluffy confection. 

“A little harder, Aster,” Richter commands. The blond hums and tries harder. He manages to bite off a mouthful. He starts gagging. “Chew.” Aster tries. He’s sloppy. He barely remembers how, but once the first mouthful is down, the rest follows easily, especially with a drink of water. Richter gets him to eat the whole donut and finish a cup of water. He tries to coax the other into having more, but Aster is simply too tired. 

84\. They will be very cold. Do whatever you can to keep them warm. 


Richter gives every coat and every blanket and cuddles up beside him, sharing his body heat. Aster’s shivering concerns him, but it goes away after a few minutes. Richter extricates himself once Aster stops trembling and settles into sleep. 

85\. Thank whatever gods you believe in for letting you bring them back. 


Richter’s never prayed before. But he’s praying now. He prays to every god he can name and every sphere of influence he can think of otherwise. “Thank you. To whatever powers created this earth, to the Summon Spirits, to Martel. Thank you all. The God of Life. The God of Death. Whoever you are. Whatever you are. Thank you. Thank you.” The tears can fall at last. It’s over. It’s all over. 

Richter eats his fill but is careful to leave plenty more for Aster. He can scarcely take his eyes off the other, even as he eats. He begins to think that now he’ll always be afraid of losing Aster again. He’ll never have a peaceful moment. But it’s a small price. And he might just grow out of it. 

86\. Go to sleep. Nothing will harm you here. 


He lays beside Aster, holding the other tightly. Even if he has to take his eyes off Aster to sleep, he’s not going to give the world any chance to rip him away again. Sleep doesn’t come easy, but Richter hasn’t rested since finding Aster in the underworld and to cure such exhaustion, come it must. Eventually he drifts off, clinging to Aster. 

87\. When you wake, do not disturb your loved one. They haven’t slept in so long. Wait until they wake up on their own. 


He awakens in the dark, but the dim light of dawn is fast approaching, and what little light the stars offer is enough to let him see Aster is still there, still breathing. He gets up and stretches, having a light snack and taking care of the signals his body gives him as they arrive. His time in the underworld doesn’t lend itself well to his body’s natural rhythm, but things sort themselves. He doesn’t wander far, even to do his business. He’s sure to be quiet. The scant light also offers other observations. The fairy ring is gone. As strange as it is, he’s not surprised. Even the non-magical kind are rare, that is, if there even is a non-magical kind. Now that he knows about the underworld, he thinks that all fairy rings could have an element of magic. There must be a reason for the superstition after all. But considering their rarity, and the impossible experience he just lived, he supposes that a portal to the underworld wouldn’t stick around. 

He remembers the sword he received and looks for it. As he suspected, it’s gone. He only has the memory of it now. Still, what on earth would he have done with a sword like that? 

Richter amuses himself with a book, trying to placate his impatience. It’s nearing noon when Aster awakens as well. He seems startled by Richter at first but calms down when Richter assures him that he’s safe. 

“Who are you, again? No, wait. Give me a moment, I feel like I know this.” Aster wracks his brain. “Your face. I definitely know you. Ah! Richter! You’re Richter.”  
  
“That’s right. What else do you remember?” Aster rattles off a few things. He knows who he is and he knows the world’s name. He thinks it’s two years prior, but Richter sees no need to correct that just yet. But he’s not sure where he is or how he got here. Richter comes to the conclusion that his memory of the underworld is fading, replaced by memories of his time among the living flooding back. 

88\. Take them home. They will not remember you at first, but they will regain their memories soon. 


Aster’s still weak, but Richter guides him back to civilization after breakfast. “I’m really sorry I don’t remember much about you, Richter.” 

“It’s alright. You’ll remember.” 

“I know, but it still feels bad. You’ve been really nice to me. It can’t be easy caring for me when I don’t remember much of anything.” 

“You remember my name, and that’s enough for me right now.” 

“I also remember the name Aqua. And the name Rilena. You used to know them too, I think.” 

“See? You’re getting there. Don’t push yourself. It’ll all come back. But we do know them. We’ll see Rilena again soon and we’ll look for Aqua once you remember a bit more.” 

89\. Don’t tell them how they died. It’s best if they don’t know. 


Unlike in the underworld where all Aster could remember were his death and the time after, the living Aster seems not to remember anything after setting off to go to the Otherworldly Gate.  
  
“It’s better you don’t remember,” Richter says. 

“Why, did I do something bad?” 

“No, of course not.” 

“Did you?” 

“No.” 

“Then… Did something bad happen?” Aster asks. 

“As I said, it’s better for you not to know. But you’re smart. Someday you’ll figure it out. I won’t lie to you, but try to just relax for now. You can ask me all about that once you’re settled back at home.” 

90\. Spend time with them. Most people don’t get a second chance. 


Richter slides a plate toward Aster. “Awww, I was hoping for a donut.” 

“You can have one after dinner.” 

“If I have to eat this, I’m having _two_ donuts.” 

“It’s take-out, you dick, and I’m learning. We can’t all be the Wonder Chef.” Richter shoves the blond playfully. “Now shush and eat. We have a big day tomorrow.” 

It’s been a few months. Aster’s healthy again and he remembers everything other than his death. He knows he died, and he knows it has something to do with seeking Ratatosk, but Richter refuses to elaborate. He can only assume something went wrong since Richter refuses to clarify and he’s already guessed too many things to even know what’s right. 

Rilena adds a little salt to her plate. “We haven’t seen Sheena in a while, I wonder how she’s been doing.” 

“Frankly we should have gone to her in the first place. We might not have failed if she’d been with us.” 

“Didn’t her first party die when she went to confront Volt?” Aster asks. 

“Don’t be cruel. She was a child then. As I hear it, there were communication issues.” Richter replies. 

“Is that what happened with Ratatosk?” Aster fishes for info again. 

“No. He made himself clear enough. Which is why it’s hard enough to ask Sheena now with the knowledge I have. I really don’t think Ratatosk wants to help, but if there’s any way of convincing him now, a Summoner would know. 

“I’m--” 

“Don’t you dare apologize again, Aqua.” Richter shoots the centurion a look across the table. “You warned us. We barged in anyway. You’re the only reason things didn’t get worse.” 

“I still can’t believe you won’t tell me what happened either,” Aster smirks. “Come on. I’ll hold Richter down so you can kiss him if you tell me!” 

“ASTER!” 

“Aster, it’s not as if that isn’t tempting, but I did promise Master Richter, I wouldn’t. A kiss wouldn’t be worth the trust I’d ruin if I did tell you.” 

“You’re so _lame_ , Aqua!” 

“If you wanted to remember how you died, you shouldn’t have forgotten!” Richter teases. 

“It’s not like I had a choice!” Aster elbows Richter. “Ugh, if you die and I bring you back, I’m not telling you how you died, either!” 

“If I died the way you did, I’d be grateful not to know.” Richter scoffs, taking a second helping of food. 

“I’ll wear you down eventually. You’ll slip up or owe me at some point.” Aster laughs. 

“If you manage to outlive me, I’ll tell you on my deathbed.” Richter winks. 

“Guess I’ll have to live one thousand and one years, then.” 

“I’d be impressed.” 

“Can you two boys stop flirting and pass me another piece of bread?” Rilena rolls her eyes. 

“You let me flirt in peace or I’ll call off our engagement.” 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Aster.” 

“I’ll make sure your dad knows.” 

“You wouldn’t dare.” 

“Aster, if you make Rilena cry, you’re sleeping on the couch for a month.” 

“Richter, if you make me cry, I’ll tell everyone I remember you killing me.” 

“As if the people that believed it the first time don’t still believe that even now that you’re back.” 

“Aster, if you make Master Richter cry, I’ll make sure you never eat another donut.” 

Aster gasps. “Now, Aqua, that’s going a bit too far.” 

“Wait, so if you’re being pressured not to make Richter and me cry, and Richter’s being pressured not to make you cry, then who am I pressuring and who’s pressuring Aqua. Is it me? And why?” Rilena muses. 

“You make me cry every day with your fake engagement.” Aqua giggles. “Bad enough that it’s a convoluted way to get your homophobic dad off your back so he’ll keep paying for your studies. But it reminds me every day that Master Richter and I aren’t fake dating and that’s, frankly, a tragedy. It’s been two years! Are you putting a fake ring on this or what?” 

Richter blushes to the amusement of everyone at the table. “The fake dating won’t work at all if you keep calling me ‘Master.’” 

“Not with that attitude.” Aqua crosses her arms. 

“Yeah, Richter. Respond the right way and everyone will just think it’s a kinky pet name!” 

“Aster, I don’t want to be known as the guy who has BDSM sex with a sub that keeps advertizing it!” 

“Well then you better not shout about it so loud.” Rilena smirks, clearing her dishes. “The walls aren’t the thickest here at Sybak.” 

“I’ll tell everyone that it was you and Kate making those noises on the night the power went out.” Richter mutters. 

“No one’s going to believe you.” Rilena gently pats his hair. “And even if they did, just remember allll the leverage I have on you.” 

Richter cringes. “I hate this family.” 

Aster laughs, cuddling up next to him. “Face it Richter, if you really hated it, you wouldn’t be here.” 

“That’s right!” Aqua piles on, pinching Richter’s cheeks. “You had your options. And you settled for this.” 

“I wonder if the demons would make a deal to get me out of this?” Richter says it like a threat, but even Aqua doesn’t believe him.  
  
“Face it, Richter. You’re stuck with us.” Aster gives him a soft peck on the lips. 

Richter sighs, a smile forming. “Yeah… I guess there are worse fates.”  
  
“Like a world without donuts.” Aster says with mock horror. 

“Don’t give me good punishment ideas.” 

“I can’t believe you let him bully me like this, Aqua.” 

“I let him bully everyone.” 

Rilena brings back a box of donuts from the kitchen. “As if Richter can do anything more significant than be loud and angry-looking.” 

“Hey!” 

Aster laughs. “She’s not wrong, Ric. You’re all bark and no bite.” 

“I _can_ bite, I just prefer not to blunt my teeth on knuckleheads.”  
  
“You bend over backward to do everything I say.” Rilena taunts. 

“Because up until Aqua, you were the only person at this table with any sense at all.” 

“That’s true. You and Aster did always share a single brain cell.” 

“That’s not true!” Aqua protests. “Richter has at least _three_ brain cells of his own.” 

“Et tu, Aqua?” 

“Yes, me too. Marry me and I’ll stop sassing you.” 

“Isn’t the point of marriage to pick someone you WANT to nag you?” 

“I told you he bullies everyone Aster.” 

“Speaking of bullying.” Rilena cuts in. “Dishes. Nose goes.” 

Everyone quickly puts their fingers to their noses, but Richter’s not fast enough. 

“Have fun scraping off whatever Aster scorched to the plates yesterday.” Rilena grins. 

Richter’s shoulders slouch. “Fuck.” 


End file.
